The Rocket Man must be over the super moon. First Elton John was knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and now this! Recently, James Darwin Thomas, a professor at Nova Southeastern University, discovered a new species of shrimp, and noting its large “appendage” (now, now…), instead of thinking oxymoron, immediately thought of Elton John. Speaking through his publisher, Pensoft, Thomas revealed his inspiration. “I have listened to his music in my lab during my entire scientific career. So when this unusual crustacean with a greatly enlarged appendage appeared under my microscope after a day of collecting, an image of the shoes Elton John wore as the Pinball Wizard came to mind.”

Photo by James Thomas

Not everyone is so lucky as to have a species named for them. But what if they were? Here are some suggestions for newly found creatures and their human counterparts:

1.

No more twiddling your thumbs on Tuesday nights. The muppets have made a triumphant return to TV. Kermit is as crotchety as ever, and Gonzo still gesticulates with his noodley arms. Oops!! Before this entry is deleted by the censors, I couldn’t help but think of a certain favorite frog when I saw this:

Every time I turn on the TV or read the newspaper, I see Donald Trump. So when I saw this bizarre formation with its familiar curvature on my computer screen, an image of Trump’s hair naturally came to mind. Plus the law that Donald Trump must be mentioned everywhere, as i mentioned in my last post.

Photo courtesy popularmechanics.com

Photo by Michael Vadon

3.

Apparently, there is another law that states that Benedict Cumberbatch must be appear in all visual media. So, whether “tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” or not, this recently discovered stick insect is getting his day in the spotlight.

Photo courtesy of Royal Belgian Institute of Natural Sciences

Photo by GabboT

4.

The Pinocchio frog has not been given a scientific name yet. Why not just call it Ted Cruz?

Photo by Tim Laman National Geographic

Photo by Gage Skidmore

5.

When I learned that John Boehner, Speaker of the House, was retiring, I thought there could be no more fitting farewell than to name this sea creature after him.

Yesterday it was announced that Jenna Coleman is leaving Doctor Who. Jenna has been the Doctor’s steady companion, Clara, through his regeneration from Matt Smith to Peter Capaldi, from young to old, from eccentric to grumpy. In her normal life when she not traveling in the TARDIS, Clara has been a nanny, a school teacher, a girlfriend to Danny Pink, and a friend to many. But now Jenna’s off to play Queen Victoria in a eight-part drama series.

Jenna’s absence will leave a much coveted hole in the show’s cast. Who will be the next companion?? Below are five top contenders the producers and director should consider:

Chewbacca – Since his stunning self portrayal in the Star Wars epic series, Chewie has languished in Hollywood, receiving neither the respect nor the recognition he so justly deserves. The emotion he wrung out of unforgettable lines like brrwhhhaargh and grrrwaaaaaarggggh (Such joy! Such angst!), should long ago have placed him in the pantheon of Greats. Instead, he spends his off-grooming time traveling from ComicCon to ComicCon, selling himself for photo ops. And while Chewbacca will make a reappearance in The Force Awakens, isn’t it time he claim a more prominent role? Chewbacca is uniquely positioned to become the new companion. He has experience as Hans Solo’s sidekick, and his “bigger on the outside” persona offers a nice counterpoint to the TARDIS’s “bigger on the inside” dimensions.

Con: shedding all over the Tardis

Olaf – What has become of Olaf? Sure his image graces waffle makers, sippy cups, toothbrushes, lunchboxes, beach towels, slippers, ice skates, T-shirts, costumes, backpacks, cereal, mugs, pretzels, phone cases…, but is the cutthroat world of retail really suited to such a sensitive, optimistic snowman? To package Olaf is to melt him–and no one puts Olaf on a shelf. Olaf is a risk-taker! Olaf is ready to die for love! If these are not the qualities of a good companion, I don’t know what are. Rescue Olaf from the inhumanity of consumerism and cast him as the Doctor’s next companion.

Con: leaving puddles in the TARDIS.

Robby the Robot – A contemporary of both the first Doctor, William Hartnell, and the second, Patrick Troughton, Robby rolled on the scene in 1965 in TV’s Lost in Space. Despite his rather intimidating description as a Class M-3 Model B9 General Utility Non-Theorizing Environmental Control Robot, Robby is surprisingly human, poignantly capable of humor, melancholy, sarcasm, guitar playing, and singing. Keenly perceptive, Robby would be invaluable to alert the Doctor to peril with his flailing arms and warning words: “Danger! Danger! Will Robinson” (At last, the Doctor’s name is revealed!!). Other favorable traits include his familiarity with space travel, his prior experience working with doctors (Dr. John Robinson, Dr. Maureen Robinson) and his knack for thwarting a fierce nemesis (Dr. Zachary Smith).

Con: The singing? It wasn’t so hot.

Donald Trump – Because he has otherworldly hair, and there is apparently a law that every list, article, or show must include him.

Con: too many to mention.

A Dalek – In a world torn apart by strife, let’s restore hope by healing the rift between Time Lord and Dalek. Only by working together can these two mortal (immortal?) enemies bring peace to the universe (and if they could EX-TER-MIN-ATE ISIS in the process, so much the better).

Con: The competition to choose which color Dalek would represent the species could get ugly. Red? Blue? Heck, it’s starting to look a lot like the U.S. presidential campaign—just not as contentious.

What can I say? Ticks dig me. It’s been this way as long as I can remember. I suppose my story is a bit cliché, but I’ll let you be the judge.

I was discovered at the age of three in a little town called Hollywood. Yes, that Hollywood! Is there any other? California, you say? Huh! But I digress. I was in the yard, romping around the coconut palms and through the croton bushes when I was approached by an agent looking for new blood. I was sucked in by the idea that I had something special, something that set me apart from other people, something—dare I say it?—in the very life source that flowed through my veins.

Before I knew it, the bug had gotten under my skin. I was the host of the town— living large, the meals and drinks always on me. Soon, not only ticks but everyone wanted me. Sure, it was attractive at first; I felt needed, as if I truly had something to offer. Admirers swarmed around me everywhere I went. A buzz of excitement erupted whenever I stepped outside.

But over the years I discovered I couldn’t satisfy everyone. I took to staying indoors, covered up when I went out. Then the whining started. I couldn’t escape its insistent droning in my ears, reminding me always, always that I had to perform, had to give my followers what they wanted—the little parasites. I tried shooing them away, but it didn’t work. They only flew at me with greater force, poking and prodding. And then they started on my children. We couldn’t go to the playground, walk to school or plant a garden like other families. The pests were relentless; they were eating us alive. I even employed a SWAT team, but our protection was only hit-and-miss.

I was drained and had the scars to show it. I decided to quit. I dropped out of sight, and the clingers-on forgot about me. At least, I thought they did. Recently, I felt that old, familiar itch. I returned to my roots, plowing the fertile soil of my comeback and planting seeds I hope will flower and bear fruit. As I’ve toiled I’ve reflected on those long-ago days. Had they really been that bad? Hadn’t the wounds healed?

The answer has come swiftly. I’ve been back in the Lyme light for only a week and already the ticks are in my hair, clutching at my arms and legs, sucking up to me. In the intervening years, though, I’ve learned a few things, and this time I’m DEETermined to dump these ticks before they burrow too deep.